Deceptions
by elbcw
Summary: 'I only need two of you,' he pointed at Porthos, 'you are clearly a liability, you will be too much trouble, and you,' he looked at Athos, 'are sick and I cannot ransom a dead man. Those two are injured enough that they are unlikely to cause me any problems.' Aramis and d'Artagnan are taken prisoner by a gang hoping for a ransom. This is a follow on to my story 'Small Injuries'.
1. Chapter 1

Authors note: For those who need to know…they are all featured throughout, but there is more Aramis whump, some d'Artagnan whump (and worry/angst from him) and a little Athos whump.

If you have not read 'Small Injuries' all you really need to know is that they were all captured, briefly, by a gang. During their escape d'Artagnan burnt his hands, Porthos received a burn to his arm, Aramis fell over and has a bruised leg, hip and arm and Athos has a bit of a fever.

Deceptions

Chapter One

The fire had died down, but the sun was up and Porthos could feel its rays on him. Whilst not offering much warmth it did provide the safety of light. They had taken turns to keep watch. Aramis had watched first. Porthos had been surprised when Athos had woken him for his turn a few hours earlier. The still feverish man had stated that when he had awoken he had found that Aramis, who was supposed to still be on watch, had fallen asleep, clutching the water skin he had intended Athos to drink from.

They were all tired, they had only been hunted for a couple of hours by the gang before they lost them in the woods, but a collection of small injuries, and then Athos' fever had left them all at the point of collapse.

D'Artagnan stretched with a groan besides him, Porthos grabbed the young man's wrist before he unconsciously used his hand to push himself into a sitting position. D'Artagnan's eyes flew open, startled by the contact.

Porthos chuckled, 'it's OK, I'm just stopping you from hurting yourself.'

The young man looked confused for a few seconds as the last vestiges of sleep left him and he recollected the previous couple of days events. He held up his bandaged hands, then nodded his thanks to Porthos before looking over at Athos and Aramis who were both still sleeping.

'Athos woke me up a few hours ago, he's not fully fit, but he was alert enough to take a turn…' Porthos smiled when d'Artagnan looked a little guilty at being allowed to sleep through the night, 'you can take a turn next time we need to set up a look out rota.'

Stiffly Porthos pulled himself to his feet, he moved across to his still sleeping comrades and crouched down, he gently shook Aramis' shoulder. The marksman shifted his position with a moan of pain, his hand reaching out to his bruised hip and leg, an earlier fall leaving the man struggling to walk as the bruising had become progressively worse.

Porthos helped his friend to sit up and once certain Aramis was fully awake he turned his attention to Athos who was beginning to stir.

As Athos opened his eyes Porthos could see the man was still suffering, the tension in his expression was obvious. As with Aramis, Porthos helped the man to sit. He picked up the discarded water skin and pushed it into Athos hands. Athos pulled out the stopper and took a drink before passing the skin to Aramis who did the same.

'Are you two OK to start walking back to the remains of our camp?'

Both men nodded. Porthos returned to d'Artagnan and helped him up.

'Can you walk with Athos, whilst I help Aramis?'

D'Artagnan nodded crossing to Athos and offering his arm to the swordsman. Slowly Athos pulled himself up, keeping hold of d'Artagnan for a few seconds before releasing the young musketeer. Athos was pale, but appeared alert enough, although Porthos knew they would need to keep an eye on him. Porthos could see Aramis eyeing his friend carefully.

Porthos held out both hands to Aramis who grabbed them, he hauled the marksman up and immediately grabbed his right arm and pulled it around his shoulder whilst snaking his left arm around the man's waist. Aramis tried to bear weight on his left leg and hissed in pain.

'Why try?' asked Porthos.

'Sorry,' said Aramis through clenched teeth.

Slowly they moved off towards their camp. Athos led, with d'Artagnan remaining nearby. Porthos and Aramis followed.

MMMM

As they walk back towards the remains of their camp d'Artagnan could tell that Athos was not as well as he was pretending to be. Although he was no longer being short with them he was still shivering, despite now wearing his doublet again.

The man had stumbled a few times which was also a giveaway, Athos was usually so sure footed, almost balletic with his movements. D'Artagnan did not want to say anything but instead chose to keep as close as he could in case his friend were to fall.

As they reached the camp they spread out and took stock of the remains. The gang that had caught them the previous day had not left much behind, their horses and most of their gear had been taken. D'Artagnan watched as Porthos helped Aramis to the ground, the pale marksman clearly suffering from having to walk through the rough terrain. Athos was picking through what had been left by the gang.

'There is nothing of use to us, we will have to press on to the road,' he said rising, d'Artagnan noticed he swayed slightly but quickly stopped himself as he glanced across at Aramis who was not watching him at that moment.

D'Artagnan realised Athos had managed to keep himself out of Aramis' reach since they had woken. Athos was clearly trying to hide how ill he was from the marksman who would no doubt want the man to rest rather than struggle on. Athos was a stubborn man at times thought d'Artagnan.

D'Artagnan decided he would have to say something, he stepped towards Athos to confront him but stopped when he saw Athos staring intently to the left of him. As the young musketeer turned to see what had caught the swordsman's eye he noticed movement in the trees behind Athos.

Half a dozen men, including the man who had interrogated them the previous day stepped forward, their weapons trained on them.

The Musketeers froze, they were in no state to resist, they had no weapons and were all injured. The leader of the gang smiled as he took in the four. He slowly walked up to each of them in turn. He looked down at d'Artagnan's bandaged hands and nodded, then knocked Aramis' bruised leg with his foot, eliciting a hiss of pain from the marksman and a slight reaction from Porthos. The leader crossed to Porthos and grabbed his arm, the one the man had burnt with a hot poker the day before. Porthos could not suppress a cry of pain at the action.

The man stopped in front of Athos and observed him for a few seconds before nodding and turning to his men.

'That one,' he said pointing at Aramis, 'and that one,' he continued pointing at d'Artagnan.

Two of the men moved towards Aramis grabbing him and hauling him up to stand, keeping him upright when he nearly fell back down.

'You two, on your knees,' said the leader indicating Athos and Porthos. When neither man did as they were told, one of the gang pressed his gun into d'Artagnan neck.

Porthos crossed the camp and knelt down next to Athos, who swayed again.

'I only need two of you, to make it worthwhile, you,' he pointed at Porthos, 'are clearly too much of a liability, your injury is minimal, you will be too much trouble, and you,' he looked at Athos, 'are sick and I cannot ransom a dead man. Those two are injured enough that they are unlikely to cause me any problems.'

Aramis had regained his composure enough to speak, 'no one will pay for us, we're worthless.'

'Speak again, and I will have these two killed.'

Aramis, who was about to complain clearly thought better of it and shut his mouth.

'Get them on a horse.'

Aramis was roughly walked over to a saddled horse and despite the obvious pain he was in was forced up to sit on the saddle. D'Artagnan could tell Aramis was struggling to keep upright as he was walked over to the same horse and helped up behind the marksman. The leader, who had mounted his own horse walked over to them and pulled out a set of manacles with a short chain. He leaned over and grabbed d'Artagnan's wrist, attaching one manacle, he looked at d'Artagnan who reluctantly put his other arm around Aramis waist and allowed himself to be chained.

'I suggest neither of you fall, it probably would not be pleasant,' the leader said with a chuckle as he took the horse's reins and began to lead them from the thicket and back towards the road.

D'Artagnan managed to twist around enough to make eye contact with Athos and Porthos who could do nothing but watch as their brothers were taken by the gang.

MMMM


	2. Chapter 2

Authors note: There's medical/illness type stuff. I'm not medically trained. I apologies in advance.

Chapter Two

They remained where they were as Aramis and d'Artagnan were led away. One gang member had his gun trained on them until they were out of sight. Porthos rose and took a few steps forward, when he realised Athos had not followed him he turned in time to see the swordsman crumple to the floor.

'Athos?'

Athos did not respond, Porthos crouched down and pulled his friend over onto his back. Athos moaned and opened his eyes. Porthos touched his friends skin, Athos was hot, his fever clearly still affecting him.

'Why didn't you say?'

'Didn't want them…worry.'

Porthos sighed, he knew he would probably have done the same thing.

'They need to concentrate on themselves…not worry 'bout me.'

Athos was clearly very weak; the effort of his deception had caught up with him. Porthos found the water skin and after pulling Athos up to sit, leaning the ill man against his chest, he helped him to drink. Athos did not complain or try to pull away at the action.

After a few minutes Porthos realised Athos had become very quiet and still, his friend was unconscious. Porthos knew the road was not too far away, he would have to carry Athos, and hope they could find help.

MMMM

Porthos was pleased to see the road, he knew he would not be able to carry Athos much further. He gently lay the unconscious musketeer down, checking his breathing was still steady as he did so. Athos had not stirred in the time it had taken to reach the road. There was no sign of anyone. Porthos stood for a few minutes contemplating what to do.

They needed to get back to Paris, Athos needed help and a search would need to be started for Aramis and d'Artagnan. Although Porthos knew any ransom demand would not be paid, Treville would not simply give up on his men.

Porthos sat down beside the still form of his friend. He decided he would have to rest for a while, hoping that Athos would come around and be able to walk on his own for a little while, Porthos was reluctant to leave his ill friend but if their situation did not improve rapidly he would be forced to find help on his own.

The day was chilly, but with no wind and the sun shining on the spot he had laid Athos down Porthos found it was not too uncomfortable to rest for a few minutes.

The sound of horses and the rumble of a cart had the big musketeer look around. The cart, pulled by two horses was approaching, a man and women sat at the front. They slowed to a stop as Porthos managed to scramble up to stand.

'Are you injured?' asked the woman, she looked Porthos up and down then turned her gaze to Athos who was still unconscious.

'Madam, Monsieur,' began Porthos, 'we're Musketeers, we were attacked…my friend is ill…I'd be grateful for any help you can give us…I have a little money…I can pay you…'

'What's wrong with 'im? If he's contagious we ain't 'elping them.'

'Paul,' admonished the woman as she climbed down from the cart, 'he's got a fever, these men are soldiers and they protect us, it's the least we can do to help them when they need it.'

The farmer muttered something in response before climbing down and walked around the horses to join his wife who was leaning over Athos, feeling his cheek with the back of her hand.

'He is warm, how long has he been like this?'

'Since yesterday, he was hiding the symptoms for a bit, but 'e's much worse now, he collapsed about half an hour ago, I had to carry 'im out of the woods.'

'Paul, help…'

'Porthos.'

'Help Porthos get this man on the cart.'

'Thank you, Madam,' said Porthos as he stooped to lift Athos with the help of the farmer.

'My name is Sarah, what is your friends name?'

'Athos.'

'I'll sit in the back with him, you sit up with Paul, it's not far to our farm…I'm afraid we can only offer you the barn, but we can help you to get comfortable there.'

Porthos gladly accepted the offer of help. He knew Athos was in no fit state to travel, Porthos only hoped the fever did not linger for long, and did not get any worse. Time was of the essence.

MMMM

'Hey, stay awake.'

Aramis pulled himself upright again, as d'Artagnan spoke to him. He knew the only reason he was still on the horse was because the young musketeer was keeping him there.

'Sorry,' he said as he blinked a few times.

'Is it bad?'

'Excruciating.'

The pain radiating out from his bruised hip was white hot, it had been bad enough when he had been walking with Porthos, but sat on the horse, unable to move was really taking its toll on him. He knew he was close to passing out, but he had to remain alert or they would both fall. He was aware of d'Artagnan firmly holding him around the waist, his bandaged hands clutching at the front of the saddle despite the pain it must of have been causing him.

The leader of the gang, who they now knew was called, Bret watched as Aramis swayed again, almost losing his battle with consciousness.

'We'll stop for a break; the horses need to be watered,' he barked to the other men.

Aramis sighed with relief as the horse was stopped and Bret leaned over and undid one of the manacles that was keeping d'Artagnan chained around his waist.

'Help him down.'

D'Artagnan quickly dismounted and reached up to help Aramis down. As he reached the ground Aramis could not help sagging against d'Artagnan. One of the gang members stepped forward and grabbed Aramis' arm as d'Artagnan took the other, they slowly walked the marksman over to a fallen tree and helped him to sit down.

'Let me see your hands,' said Aramis as the pain in his leg slowly receded.

D'Artagnan held out the now bloody bandages.

'If you don't want his wounds getting infected you'll have to allow me to change the dressing,' said Aramis to Bret who had dismounted and approached the pair. The gang leader nodded to the man who had helped Aramis. As the man walked away Bret regarded his two captives.

Both Aramis and d'Artagnan ignored the man, as Aramis went about peeling the dirty bandages from d'Artagnan's hands. The burns were not too bad, but they had been rubbed due to d'Artagnan being forced to use his hands to keep them both on the horse which had caused them to bleed.

'I'll have you ride separately when we continue,' said Bret.

The other man returned with water and fresh bandages. Bret watched closely as Aramis gently cleaned and redressed d'Artagnan's hands.

'Are you trained medically?' he asked.

Aramis looked up at the man, 'I'm one of the field medics, I have a little medical knowledge, enough for the battle field.'

Bret nodded, 'rest for a few minutes we will continue once the horses are all watered.'

The gang leader wandered off, leaving them under the guard of the man who had fetched the bandages.

MMMM

Once they reached the farm they were met with the couple's daughter, Clare, who, like her mother, was more than happy to help them.

Paul, after helping Porthos carry Athos to the barn retreated to his farming duties and kept well out of their way. Sarah explained that he had lost two brothers to a fever when he was young and was wary of anyone who could be carrying a contagious disease. Sarah could not work out the underlying cause of Athos' fever, but whatever it was he appeared to be fighting it off.

They stripped Athos of his doublet and made him as comfortable as they could, Clare brought a couple of blankets from the farmhouse and cloths to dampen and use to help cool his skin.

Sarah and her daughter listened intently to Porthos as he explained to them what had happened. She had pulled him into a hug when his voice hitched as he described having to watch his friend being taken way.

Porthos sat up, in the barn, throughout the night with Athos. Sarah and Clare took turns to sit with him, bringing fresh water to help cool Athos and food for Porthos. Sarah also found time to redress the burn on Porthos' arm.

Athos did not fully regain consciousness, but did have waking nightmares, he shouted out for his brothers and Porthos had to hold him down on more than one occasion. They managed to get him to drink water a few times when he came around a little, but Porthos knew the man did not know where he was as he continued to mumble incoherently.

As the light returned Athos' fever broke, Sarah continued to use the cooling cloths on him. She glanced across at Porthos who had not moved for several hours, Porthos noticed her watching him.

'Why don't you try to sleep, you look exhausted, I'll wake you if anything changes…he's over the worst of it.'

Porthos was reluctant to leave Athos, even to sleep.

'You will be no good to him if you make yourself ill,' continued the woman smiling at him, she handed him one of the blankets.

Realising the woman was correct, he nodded and took the blanket. He shifted around and spread the blanket over himself before lying down on his side so that he was facing Athos.

'Thank you for your kindness,' he said with a yawn.

MMMM


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

His thoughts were jumbled and woolly. There was a vague image of two of his brothers on horseback. He was watching them being taken away. The image was not pleasant.

Athos sat up with a start, he found himself staring at a young woman, barely more than a child who looked startled.

The young woman quickly regained her composure and placed a firm hand on his chest and pushed him back down, Athos found himself too weak to resist. Once lying back down he ordered his thoughts, he saw that he was in a barn and that Porthos was lying a few feet away, seemingly asleep.

'You've been ill monsieur,' said the woman, 'my parents found you and your friend at the side of the road, we stayed up all night whilst you were ill…your fever broke a few hours ago. But you are still too weak to be up and about. You must stay there for now.'

'My friends…'

'Monsieur Porthos told us what happened to you, he said that once you are well enough you will both travel to Paris for help. My father is going to take you.'

'Clare, you need to see to the hens,' came a women's voice from outside of the barn.

'Mama,' said Clare over her shoulder, 'he's awake.'

The young woman's mother entered the barn with a smile to her daughter who quickly vanished to do her chore.

'Monsieur Athos, it is good to see you awake at last.'

Athos blinked a few times, he felt very tired, the brief conversation had worn him out.

'Have a little broth before you sleep again,' said the woman, Athos realised she was holding a tray with two bowls on, steam rising from them.

She set the tray down before helping Athos to sit up a little, rearranging the straw and blankets to make him more comfortable. She picked up one of the bowls and using a spoon fed him the broth. Athos did not try to take the bowl and spoon for himself, he knew he was still too weak. He glanced across at Porthos who was beginning to stir, no doubt pulled from his slumber by the smell of the broth.

'He was exhausted, he didn't want to leave your side, I had to practically demand he try and rest.'

'You're awake,' said Porthos as he pushed himself up to sit.

'Only just,' replied Athos.

'I don't care if you fall asleep again now that you are making sense again. You 'ad me worried overnight,' replied Porthos as he shuffled a little closer and picked up the second bowl after the women nodded towards it.

When Athos had had enough of the broth the woman gathered up the bowl and picked up the tray saying, 'you will need to rest for a little longer before you will be fit enough to travel, I'll not be responsible for you travelling too soon.'

As she went Porthos turned to Athos and said, 'Sarah is quite the Captain around here. Her 'usband, Paul, just does as he's told.'

'Strong woman, the world needs more sensible, strong willed women,' replied Athos.

Porthos nodded, 'you need to rest some more, the sooner you are well enough to travel the better.'

Athos agreed, he knew for Aramis and d'Artagnan's sakes he could not risk becoming ill again by travelling too soon. He allowed Porthos to help to lie down again, and found himself drifting off to sleep within a few minutes.

MMMM

After camping for a second night d'Artagnan watched as Aramis was again roughly pulled over to one of the gang's horses and forced up behind the man riding it. D'Artagnan was pleased that his friend was now able to walk unaided but he was still too slow to please Bret who had punched Aramis the day before when he took too long to dismount. The resulting bruising across the marksman's face had left him with one eye swollen shut.

D'Artagnan was next to be pushed towards a horse, he was helped up behind another gang member his wrists manacled around the man's waist. Bret had watched closely each time Aramis had changed the bandages on d'Artagnan's hands. They had not been able to work out why the man was taking such an interest. Now that the wounds were being given a chance to heal, Aramis had said they probably would not need to rebandage his hands again.

Before they set off, Bret rode up to each of them and blindfolded them firmly saying, 'we'll reach camp today,' by way of explanation.

Travelling on horseback without his vision was quite disorientating. D'Artagnan found himself holding onto the man in front of him firmly, earning a fair amount of laughter from the man who merely pushed the horse to move faster.

After what felt like hours but could only have been two or three, as he knew the horses would not have been able to keep the pace for any longer, they came to a halt. The blindfold was removed by Bret who leaned across and undid the manacles before moving his horse forward to where Aramis was riding and removing his blindfold.

D'Artagnan looked around, they were in the middle of a collection of tents of varying sizes. He dismounted and walked forwards to help Aramis down.

'If you get a chance to run you should take it,' said Aramis quietly.

'I'm not leaving you.'

'I'm not saying abandon me, you can come back with reinforcements.'

'You think you would last that long?'

Aramis managed a smile before turning to face Bret who had walked up to them with two of his men. Without warning they grabbed Aramis and pulled him away. The marksman was unable to hide his shock at the treatment.

D'Artagnan took a couple of steps forward before finding himself stopped by Bret.

'You can have him back later, I have a job for him to do first, you on the other hand are quite useless to me until your hands are healed.'

Bret hauled d'Artagnan around and marched him towards a nearby tent pushing the young man into it. One of the gang members followed with a gun held loosely, the threat was enough to ensure d'Artagnan did not resist.

Once inside the tent which was large enough for them to stand Bret pushed d'Artagnan down to sit on the floor beside a large section of tree trunk. Wrapped around the trunk was a chain with a leg iron at the end, Bret attached the iron to d'Artagnan ankle, pocketing the key in his doublet. A second leg iron was attached to the trunk, d'Artagnan guessed it would be for Aramis when he was returned from wherever he had been taken to.

The gang leader left d'Artagnan alone, the man with the gun took up a position just outside the tent his shadow falling across the canvas.

All d'Artagnan could do was wait.

MMMM

Aramis watched as Bret walked towards him. The man was a little older than himself and of the same build. He was clearly a capable man, the camp they were in was big, he was leading a large, organised group.

Bret nodded at the two men who were standing either side of Aramis, they stepped away but remained nearby.

'I want you to fix my men.'

Aramis wondered what Bret meant. He followed the man into a large tent. The marksman was shocked to see at least ten men lying on small makeshift beds in various states of health. Several had obvious wounds to their limbs. Two appeared to be sick with fevers.

'What do you expect me to do? I'm a field medic I'm not a physician. I can extract a musket ball, or stitch up a wound. I have set broken bones on occasion but that's about my limit,' said Aramis looking back at Bret, 'these men are close to death, I can tell without even examining them, the smell tells me they have infected wounds…I can't cure them…I might be able to relieve their suffering…'

Aramis saw the fist too late. He crashed to the ground, knocking into one of the small beds as he fell. The man on the bed groaned in pain as Aramis tried to push himself back to his feet. Bret pushed him back down with his boot against his left leg. Aramis hissed in pain, as the bruised limb was pressed into the ground.

With his foot pressed firmly into Aramis' calf, Bret grabbed the marksman by the shoulders and pulled him into a kneeling position.

'You are going to help these men, or I am going to throw your young friend to the lions. I am the leader of a lot of men and some of them have inclinations that your young friend is bound to please…would you like me to give your friend to them? I'm sure they would keep him alive…for a bit.'

Aramis knew he could not help the injured and sick men in the tent, but he had to at least show willing. The threat Bret had made towards d'Artagnan was enough for Aramis to do as he was told.

Bret took his boot off Aramis' leg and hauled him up to stand.

'I'll need d'Artagnan's help,' said Aramis.

'Perhaps, when his hands are healed, but until then you are on your own. I'll have what you need brought in.'

Bret left the tent. Aramis looked back at the men in the beds and sighed. He could probably keep the men alive for a while, but he was fairly sure d'Artagnan and he were not in for a pleasant stay with the gang.

MMMM

D'Artagnan looked up as the tent flaps were pulled apart and a big man shoved Aramis in. The marksman stumbled to the floor before d'Artagnan could grab him. Aramis pushed himself up and turned over to sit. He looked across at d'Artagnan who was angered to see his friend was sporting another bruise to his face, this time across the jaw.

Bret entered the tent and grabbed Aramis by the arm and pulled him across to the tree trunk. Aramis tried to keep up but ended up being dragged some of the way, the leg iron was locked around the marksman's ankle.

Before rising the leader of the gang grabbed Aramis by the front of his doublet and said firmly, 'remember what I said? If none of them die, you'll both be fed tomorrow.'

He pushed Aramis back into the tree trunk before rising and leaving the tent. D'Artagnan reached over and helped Aramis to straighten up.

'What happened?'

'He's got me working in their infirmary…but none of the men there are going to live more than a few days, they are all too badly injured, when I pointed that out to Bret he decided that hitting me would make the prognosis change.'

'I guess we just have to hope Athos and Porthos or Treville can find us before they all die,' said d'Artagnan grimly.

MMMM

It was few days before Sarah deemed Athos fit to travel. Both he and Porthos had acquiesced to her better judgement. Although he wanted to get back to Paris sooner he knew that the journey would not be pleasant, it would take two days on the cart. If he were well enough to ride they could have made the distance in one day, but he had to be realistic, he was still weak from his fever and could barely walk let alone balance on the back of a horse.

Porthos had to help him walk the short distance to the waiting cart and took most of his weight as he clambered up and made himself comfortable in the back. Sarah and Clare were there to see them off. Sarah embraced Porthos and refused to take any money from him.

As Paul pushed the horses forward Porthos clambered up beside Athos.

'I'll make the best time I can,' said Paul as they reached the road.

'We are grateful regardless monsieur,' said Porthos with a smile.

They were both worried about Aramis and d'Artagnan and now they were finally able to start thinking about how they were going to go about retrieving their comrades.

MMMM


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

The journey passed without incident, they had been fortunate to find an Inn with room for the three of them, the farmer had gladly let Porthos pay for his room, saying he would normally have slept in the back of the cart on the journey.

When they reached Paris, the farmer dropped them off close to the garrison. Porthos had to help the still weak Athos through the garrison gates.

'Get them some help,' yelled Treville as he rushed down the steps clutching a letter.

Barbotin and Pierre ran over and helped Athos to the table. Treville looked them both over before speaking again.

'I've just received this,' he held out the letter to Porthos who took it and began reading.

'A ransom note?' asked Athos.

'Yes, it doesn't say who for, but I'm guessing it is Aramis and d'Artagnan?'

'We told them it wouldn't get paid,' said Porthos as he handed the note to Athos.

'I need to know what has happened, but you,' said Treville looking at Athos, 'clearly need to be in bed, you look awful.'

'I have felt better,' replied the swordsman as he allowed Barbotin to help him up and guide him towards the infirmary, 'Porthos can fill you in.'

Treville watched them go before turning back to Porthos, 'he must be ill.'

Porthos nodded, 'I was worried for a bit.'

MMMM

Treville listened to Porthos without interrupting him. He was furious by the time Porthos had finished.

'The note says we are to meet them in three days' time when they will prove that our men are still alive,' said Treville, 'we need to work out how we are going to get them back. The money they are demanding will not be paid.'

'I know,' said Porthos with a sigh, 'I just wish we could have got back earlier, it's been a week…so much time wasted that we could have been searching, but I couldn't leave Athos and he was too weak…'

Treville stood up and walked around the desk to stand in front of Porthos, 'you did the right thing, we'll get them back.'

Porthos nodded.

'But you two are going to rest for a few days.'

Porthos looked up at Treville who stopped him from protesting.

'Athos is still too fatigued, and you are not far off collapse yourself, I've seen the way you are holding your injured arm. I need you well. I will take some men, we will go to the rendezvous and get whatever information we can. Join us when Athos is fit…and not before.'

Treville did not like being firm with Porthos but he knew the man too well. He would want to try to rescue his friends and likely get himself hurt or killed in the process due to a lack of proper rest. Athos needed more time to recuperate and Porthos was probably the only one who could ensure he took the time he needed. The pair of them would have to remain behind.

MMMM

His hands now sufficiently recovered that he could be put to work d'Artagnan found himself mucking out the gang's horses. A makeshift stable had been created towards the edge of the camp. He was under guard but had enough freedom to look around his immediate surroundings without being stopped.

The camp was comprised of several tents in the centre where the gang slept two or four men together. Around those tents were the infirmary where Aramis spent his days and tents devoted to storage and food preparation. Then the stables on the edge with a crude latrine and burial area further around the perimeter. D'Artagnan guessed there were thirty to forty men in the camp, he had not seen any women. There did not appear to be any other settlements nearby, they were not near a road that d'Artagnan could tell. He had no clue to their location. If they were to escape they would have to pick a direction and keep going.

As he continued to muck out the horses d'Artagnan had managed to strike up a conversation with one of the younger gang members. Samuel was a little younger than himself and was clearly only in the gang because his older brother was. Samuel was forced to do menial jobs, but he had said, he did not mind as the violence the gang used towards other people was something he did not like.

Samuels older brother, David, was guarding d'Artagnan. He was a thick set man with beady eyes, who had already yelled at both of them several times for not working hard enough. Samuel was brushing down one of the horses when the beast became agitated, he had stepped back unsure what to do. David noticed and yelled again, grabbing Samuel at the same time and throwing him to the floor.

'You're useless, I should've just left you behind,' spat David before glaring at d'Artagnan who was very tempted to take a swing at the man.

Instead he crossed to the horse and spoke soothingly to the beast, stroking its neck until it calmed down. Once the horse was calm he turned back to Samuel and helped him up still glaring at David who laughed and turned his back to the pair.

'Thank you,' said Samuel quietly glancing over at his brother.

A wave of dizziness washed over d'Artagnan who found himself being held up by the young man.

'Are you OK?'

'Sorry,' replied d'Artagnan as he managed to regain his balance, 'they've not been feeding us. My friend, Aramis, is looking after the men in the infirmary, each time one of them dies they've been beating him and not giving us any food…I'm not sure we are going to survive long enough for our friends to even try and rescue us.'

Samuel glanced over at his brother again before leading d'Artagnan over to one of the carts that the gang had stored by the stables. He indicated for d'Artagnan to sit down before disappearing for a few seconds behind the nearest tent. When he returned he handed d'Artagnan two apples.

'They're meant for the horses, but I've stolen the odd one, they won't be missed,' said Samuel with a smile.

D'Artagnan nodded his thanks and slipped the fruit into his pocket.

'I'll see if I can get you something more, for both of you…if you manage to escape…could I come with you?'

D'Artagnan thought for a moment, he was about to speak when Samuel beat him to it.

'Don't worry, I know it would be too difficult.'

An angry yell from David had both men jumping up and returning to their work.

MMMM

Aramis hobbled around the tent and examined each of the men, he was sure another would die during the day. The man was in and out of consciousness and had been deliriously mumbling for the last couple of hours. Aramis sat by the mans bed and took his hand to offer what limited comfort he could. There was nothing he could do to prolong the man's life.

'It's wrong, the way Bret is treating you,' said Marc, an older man who was lying in a bed across the tent.

Aramis looked across and smiled sadly. Marc had been relatively lucid during the few days Aramis had been tending to the men. The old man knew he was dying and had come to accept it with a serenity that was at odds with his criminal life.

'He's an evil man. He knows none of us stand a chance. When we were injured the wounds weren't tended to straight away, the infections had set in before we got back to camp, and there ain't no one here who know how to deal with injuries.'

'It's not your fault Marc,' said Aramis.

'I'm a criminal, I know that, but most of us here are only here because we ain't got anywhere else to go. Bret has a few close men who keep the rest of us in line.'

'Some of you are just as much prisoners as d'Artagnan and I.'

'Not quite as much, he doesn't beat us for no reason, or threaten to let the sadistic ones loose on our friends.'

Aramis looked away, he was worried that Bret would grow bored of taking his anger out on him and turn his attention to d'Artagnan. He had still not told the young musketeer why he was not getting any of the violent treatment that, so far, had been reserved just for the marksman.

The dying man in the bed sighed, he took another couple of shaky breathes and was still. Aramis checked for any further signs of life before pulling the dirty blanket over the dead man's head.

As if on cue Bret stepped into the tent, he saw the body then turned his gaze to Aramis who did not even bother to resist when he was pulled up to stand.

'Another one?' said Bret, 'how are any of your Musketeer comrades alive if they only have you to look after them on the battle field. You're clearly incompetent.'

Bret pushed Aramis away with force, the marksman fell to the floor hard. As he tried to pull himself up a kick to his side had him fall back again, panting. Bret leant forward and grabbed Aramis' shoulders, pulling him back up to stand before pushing him forwards out of the tent.

MMMM

Treville hated leaving Porthos and Athos behind, but neither man was fit enough travel again so soon. Athos was still recovering from his fever and would need another few days to fully recover. Although Porthos was probably fit enough to return with them Treville did not like the idea of leaving Athos alone. Porthos would ensure the stubborn swordsman remained in bed and at the same time recover his own lost strength.

He had mustered together as many men as he could spare, including himself. After a brief visit to the palace, the King, with a little persuasion from the Queen, had decided that he wanted his men back. The ransom, obviously, would not be paid, Aramis and d'Artagnan were to be recovered by force. The King was content to allow Treville to take most of the Musketeers with him and the palace and Royal family would be protected by the Red Guard.

As they filed out of the garrison Treville paused by Porthos who was watching them go, the big musketeer looked better for a nights' sleep but was still holding his arm protectively. It was clear he had been hiding the pain of the burn on his arm from Athos who would have insisted the man rest more.

'Do not follow us until you are both well…'

Porthos nodded.

'…you will be no good to Aramis and d'Artagnan if you are not fit.'

'Yes Captain,' said Porthos.

Treville knew Porthos would obey the command, the retrieval of his brothers meant too much to him. He would not want to jeopardise their safe return.

Satisfied Treville kicked his horse into a trot and joined the rank of men leaving the garrison.

MMMM

D'Artagnan entered their tent to find Aramis already there, which was unusual. The marksman was generally being forced to work long hours in the infirmary. Aramis was lying on his side, with his back to the entrance to the tent, d'Artagnan guessed his friend was asleep. They were both exhausted from the enforced labour and the lack of food.

Once the guard had shackled his ankle and withdrawn, d'Artagnan gently shook the sleeping musketeer who groaned before turning on his back and looking up at him.

'Sorry,' said d'Artagnan, 'but I have something that I think you will enjoy.'

He pulled the apples from his pocket holding them up. Aramis' eyes widened at the sight, d'Artagnan smiled and helped his friend to sit up, noting the wince he tried to hide as he did so.

'The lad who looks after the horses gave them to me, he said he might be able to get us some more food as well.'

They ate the apples in silence, it was not enough to sate either of their appetites, but the brief taste of the sweet fruit was enjoyed by both men.

'Did another one die?' asked d'Artagnan.

Aramis nodded as he licked his fingers.

'I still don't get why he isn't taking it out on me.'

Aramis did not respond. D'Artagnan was sure there was a reason, but despite several queries Aramis had not said anything. D'Artagnan decided not to probe any further, his friend was having a bad enough time with Bret assaulting him so frequently as it was.

MMMM

Authors note: Thanks for all the reviews/favourites/follows. The next chapter will be up later tomorrow (pesky work getting in the way again).


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Without the food Samuel was able to smuggle to them Aramis was convinced they would both have collapsed with fatigue. Ten days into their captivity, and things had not improved. Five men had now died, and Aramis had the bruises to prove it. Fortunately, Bret had continued to take his anger out on him and had not followed through with his threat to hand d'Artagnan over to the less salubrious men within the camp.

The sound of men approaching the tent caused d'Artagnan, who had still been asleep, to awaken and push himself up to sit, leaning against the tree trunk next to Aramis.

'Ready for another day of guard duty? Or would you rather be patrolling the markets after a tax increase?' asked Aramis with a wry smile.

'I'd like to deliver a message to the Cardinal, that's always my favourite work,' replied d'Artagnan.

Bret pushed his way into the tent with three of his men. Usually they would be taken from the tent by the same gang members each day. D'Artagnan would be collected by David, and Aramis would be taken to the infirmary by a brutish man called Giles. Only Aramis had seen Bret again, five times, once each time a man died.

Aramis wondered if another man had died, he hoped d'Artagnan would not try to prevent Bret beating him. He had still not told d'Artagnan that his own wellbeing was very much in the balance and could depend on Bret's mood.

Bret indicated for two of the men to step forward, one of them pushed Aramis to the side, away from d'Artagnan who was grabbed by the two men and pulled up to stand. Bret stepped forward and undid the leg iron around the young man's leg before indicating for him to be taken from the tent.

Aramis tried to scramble up, but was knocked back down by Bret, 'stay there, you can have a day off…not that you have many days left.'

Aramis tried to prevent the punch, but Bret was too quick for his captive to react. Aramis, who had been sitting on the tree trunk, was knocked backwards, the chain on his leg iron pulling taut leaving him sprawled at an awkward angle. Before he had a chance to pull himself back up Bret had stepped forward and kicked him in the side.

With his eyes screwed shut as he tried to take a breath, Aramis did not see Bret leave. He had no idea where d'Artagnan had been taken.

MMMM

The ransom note had indicated a spot on open land for the rendezvous. With luck, thought Treville, they could take their men back there and then. He had secreted the Musketeers in the wooded area behind him, but they would be too far away for any element of surprise to have an effect. Brute force and superior training were his only weapons.

Three horses approached. One horse carried two men, the one sat at the back was d'Artagnan who had been blindfolded. As the men came to a stop one of them walked forward a few paces, Treville did the same. The two Musketeers who had accompanied him out into the open remained where they were.

'Are you the Musketeer Captain?'

'I am. Where is my other man?'

'He is well enough, he's back at the camp. I will allow you to speak to this one in private for a couple of minutes.'

The man turned his horse and walked up to d'Artagnan. The manacles were undone and d'Artagnan pulled off his blindfold. He dismounted and walked towards Treville who was already off his horse waiting.

D'Artagnan looked haunted. It had only been ten days since his capture, but he already looked thinner, his doublet looked too big for him, his features were gaunt.

'Captain,' he said as he reached Treville.

'How are you? And Aramis?'

'We're not being fed. They have Aramis working in their infirmary, but the men there are beyond his capabilities. Bret, there leader,' d'Artagnan indicated the man who had spoken to Treville, 'has been beating Aramis every time a man dies. He's in a worse state than I am…I think Bret has threatened him with something else, but he hasn't told me what…did Porthos and Athos get back to Paris?'

'They are well. Athos was still recovering from the fever when I left them…'

Treville noticed the look of concern cross d'Artagnan's face.

'…Porthos said that Athos had hidden how ill he was from you both so that you would not be worrying about him. Do you have any idea where the gang are keeping you? I have thirty men, we could attack.'

'There's nothing nearby that I can use to guide you. I'm sorry.'

'OK. We'll pretend to agree to the ransom, you must both be ready to run when I give the signal,' said Treville, he continued firmly, 'do not try to fight with the rest of us, if the state you are in is anything to go by neither of you will be any use in battle, get yourselves out of the way and let us handle the gang.'

'Yes sir,' replied d'Artagnan.

Bret was walking back towards them.

'I would have preferred to see both my men,' said Treville.

'When you bring the money next time we meet you will see your other man.'

'I will not be paying if either of them is hurt.'

Bret gave a half smile, 'I think we both know it is too late for me to make that promise…but I will ensure they are both still alive for you. We will meet here in four days' time…I have look outs posted, if you try to follow us I will have one of them killed, slowly, while the other one watches.'

Treville nodded, he believed the man. D'Artagnan's body language and subdued manner had told him enough about the gang. Treville was not about to take any chances with his men's lives.

MMMM

Of course, Porthos had wanted him to rest for one more day, but the big musketeer had not resisted when Athos had pulled rank on him. Porthos had smiled knowingly and crossed the infirmary to the fresh set of clothes he had collected for Athos. He had tossed the garments to his friend and left the room saying he would see to the horses and supplies whilst Athos dressed.

He knew it was probably a little too soon to be on the road again, but he was well enough to ride, and he did not want to keep Porthos from the fight any longer. Athos was prepared to placate Treville by assuring him that he would not become involved in any fighting and would employ himself as a field medic in Aramis' absence. The chances of d'Artagnan or the marksman being returned to them unharmed was remote and he was sure they would want a friendly face to help them in the immediate aftermath of their captivity.

As they reached the Musketeers camp they were greeted by Pierre who was on sentry duty, he directed them towards the centre of the camp where Treville was briefing the men and organising a search for the gang's camp. After tying their horses up, they walked over as the men disbanded leaving Treville alone to glare at them as they approached.

Their captain shook his head with a smile, 'if you collapse on me I will strip you of your commission.'

'I accept the condition sir,' replied Athos with a nod.

They sat by the campfire and Treville updated them on the recent meeting with the leader of the gang.

'How badly injured do you think they both are?' asked Porthos.

'Difficult to say, d'Artagnan looked on the point of collapse, he was trying to hide it from me, but he was being affected, and from what he said I think Aramis is in a far worse state. The leader is a nasty piece of work.'

Porthos unconsciously rubbed at his arm where he sported the fresh scar, inflicted by Bret when they had first met him.

'When we make the exchange, I have told d'Artagnan to get the two of them away from the ensuing fight, I doubt it will take Bret long to realise he has been deceived.'

'I will look after them,' said Athos, 'I am not fit enough to fight and do not intend to be a liability out there.'

Treville smiled again, 'good, Porthos I suspect you will want to be in the middle of the action, perhaps you would like to meet with Bret on a more even battle ground?'

Porthos nodded, 'oh yes, I have several bones to pick with him, on behalf of us all.'

'In the meantime, we are going to try and find the gangs camp, do you wish to rest after the journey or are you up for a little more riding?'

Both men rose to stand at the same time as Treville. They wanted to do anything they could to help find their missing friends.

MMMM

Two days later Aramis was pushed into the tent after another beating from Bret. The gang leader did not have to do much now to knock Aramis to the floor, the marksman was so fatigued he could barely stand. The most recent man to die had lingered throughout the night, but Aramis knew his hours were numbered. All he could do was make the man comfortable, he had been allowed to make a pain killing draught which had rendered the dying man virtually unconscious for his final hours.

After the guard had attached the leg iron to Aramis' ankle and left D'Artagnan pulled him up into a sitting position and looked him over.

'It looks worse than it is,' said Aramis when he noted the young man's concern, 'you don't look too good yourself.'

'I'm not the one getting punched by him every couple of days. He's barely touched me…Aramis what aren't you telling me?'

'There's nothing to tell,' lied Aramis, he knew d'Artagnan would offer himself up if it meant preventing Aramis from taking anymore beatings. Aramis was not about to let the young man be used and probably killed for his sake.

'Samuel managed to get us some cheese today,' said d'Artagnan who was obviously not satisfied with Aramis' answer, but had decided to let it drop for now.

They sat in silence eating the small piece of cheese they had been gifted by the young gang member. Bret was allowing them water, but food was sparsely offered. They were both weak and neither man had slept well since they had been taken.

Sounds outside the tent drew their attention, the camp was usually quite quiet with the men going about their duties calmly and efficiently. But now there was a general hub bub of noise and a couple of shouts. The tent flaps were pushed open and four men entered. They were both grabbed from behind and held firmly as the leg irons were removed. With two men flanking each of them they were hauled up and out of the tent.

This had not happened before, they had settled into a routine each morning and evening, being collected and returned to the tent, they had not been pulled out of the tent in the evening before. They were marched towards the edge of the camp. Most of the men seemed to be around, there was a strange atmosphere. Aramis found himself feeling quite apprehensive. The days of captivity were taking their toll on him. His usual bravado had left him.

They reached a clearing, Aramis could not help a gasp of shock at the sight that met his eyes. They were pushed to the centre of a clearing and forced to kneel. Aramis could not take his eyes off the hangman's noose that swung above them, looped over a branch of a sturdy tree.

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	6. Chapter 6

Authors note: There is some proper nastiness in this chapter so if a hanging is likely to upset you, but you want to know what happens please feel free to PM me and I will give you a brief summary of this chapter so that you can still enjoy (?) the last chapter tomorrow.

Thanks for all the reviews.

Chapter Six

Aramis found that his breathing had quickened. Was this it? Had Bret decided that he did not need both of them, was he going to hang one of them, or both of them? Was the ransom money not worth the bother anymore?

He managed to glance across at d'Artagnan who seemed to be thinking the same as him. The man had paled, his eyes wide. Aramis guessed he looked the same.

They were being held by the four men who had brought them from the tent, one man on each side of them, a hand on each of their shoulders. But, Aramis knew, neither he nor d'Artagnan had the strength to put up much of fight now.

The noose swung slightly in the gentle evening breeze. The murmur of the collected men diminished as Bret stepped forward. He spoke calmly and firmly. He did not look at either of his captives.

'I have been your leader for several years. We are a successful group. I keep you all supplied with what you need, I believe I treat you fairly.'

As he spoke Bret turned slowly, his gaze passing over all of the assembled men.

'I was shocked then, to find that one of you has been stealing from me,' he paused to allow the murmurs of the men to die down again, 'not only has one of you been stealing from me, from us, he has been giving the food he stole to our prisoners.'

Bret turned to point at Aramis and d'Artagnan as the men shouted and cursed at them. Aramis closed his eyes for a few seconds, he knew what was coming next. He could sense d'Artagnan tensing up beside him. The hands on his shoulders tightened their grip slightly.

When Aramis opened his eyes again he saw the struggling, terrified young man who had been so kind to them both being dragged towards the centre of the clearing. A stool had been placed under the noose, a table stood a little further back. Samuel's arms were bound tightly behind him, his face was covered in bruises. He was crying out with fear, his eyes red and wet with tears.

The men restraining d'Artagnan were having to push him down firmly, Aramis reached across and grabbed the young musketeers arm.

'D'Artagnan, we can't do anything for him…I'm sorry.'

It broke his heart to have to tell d'Artagnan that Samuel was beyond saving, the musketeer had struck up a friendship with the young man and now he was about to see the man hanged because of it.

Bret had watched the brief exchange a cruel smile on his lips. Aramis glared at him. A shout from the side of the clearing drew their attention. David, was yelling his brother's name, he was being held back by two big men. Despite the way the man had treated his brother, at that moment the love and affection he must have had for Samuel was at the surface of the man's emotions. Aramis felt pity for the man, but his main concern was controlling d'Artagnan. The two men holding Aramis released him when he shifted sideways slightly and grabbed his friend around the arms to hold him still. D'Artagnan was on the verge of rushing forward in what would be a useless attempt to save Samuels life.

Samuel was pushed onto the ground whilst a rope was tied around his knees. He was pleading with Bret to let him go, begging for his life. Bret signalled for the men holding Samuel to proceed. They lifted the slight young man up onto the stool. Another man had climbed onto the table and slipped the noose over the terrified captives head. The man jumped down and dragged the table a short distance away, leaving Samuel alone in the centre of the clearing balancing on the stool.

'This is how we deal with thieves…' said Bret walking forwards with purpose. He kicked the stool away, Samuel fell the short distance the rope allowed, his feet only a few inches from the ground. But it was enough. The young man's face contorted in pain as he was slowly strangled. His feet kicking, his body convulsing.

After a few minutes, with Samuel still twitching on the rope, Bret nodded to the men who were holding David back. The man lurched forward, collapsing to the ground before pulling himself up to rush to his brother. With tears streaming down his face he grabbed onto his dying brother and added his weight to speed up the young man's death.

The men watching the hanging remained silent, Aramis did not know if they were silent out of respect or fear.

D'Artagnan was still struggling against Aramis' hold slightly but he gradually stilled, as Samuel also stilled.

MMMM

David clung to the body of his brother for a few more minutes. His shoulders were heaving, and a few audible sobs escaped his lips. D'Artagnan had stopped trying to escape Aramis's grasp, he sat back on his heels and allowed himself to be held up by his friend. Aramis had been speaking quietly to him, trying to calm him down but even he had become silent now.

David took a couple of deep breaths then slowly stood up. He took the weight of his brother and reached up to loosen the noose, nobody tried to stop him. Once free of the rope the older brother gently laid his sibling down on the ground, smoothing his hair and closing his eyes. When he had finished his ministrations, he stood up and slowly turned to face d'Artagnan and Aramis, a look of pure hatred in his eyes.

The grieving man screamed at them before rushing forward. Neither musketeer had a chance to move. David dived onto them, pushing them both backwards to the ground, a tangle of arms and legs. David began indiscriminately punching them both. He eventually managed to get his hands around d'Artagnan's neck and began to squeeze. D'Artagnan grabbed at the man's hands and was aware of Aramis trying to pull the man away from him. The hands around his throat were strong and he could not prise them off, he was struggling to breath, his vision was greying. D'Artagnan wondered if that was how Samuel had felt in his final moments.

Aramis had managed to grab David from behind pulling him off d'Artagnan who gasped for breath as the assault was finished. A gunshot brought him quickly to his senses. He watched as David and Aramis stumbled backwards, falling to the ground. David landing on top of Aramis. Both men were still.

D'Artagnan managed to sit himself up, still breathing hard he scrambled over to the two prone men. David was dead, the gunshot wound in his head had sent him to his brother's side. D'Artagnan pushed the body off his friend who was blinking and breathing fast, shock evident on his face. D'Artagnan pulled the marksman up into a sitting position and looked him over. Aramis appeared uninjured.

Bret stepped forward, he crouched down in front of them both. The gun he had used to shoot David still held in his hand.

'It's only another couple of days until I am getting my ransom for you two. It would be a shame if I only had one man to hand over…' Bret looked at d'Artagnan, 'has he told you why you aren't getting beaten when he can't save my men?'

D'Artagnan did his best not to react.

'There are several men in the camp who have taken an interest in you. I've told him, that if he doesn't keep trying to save the injured men I am going to hand you over to them…but they won't be interested if you have been beaten.'

D'Artagnan glanced at Aramis who was looking away.

'He has been getting the beatings that were meant for you, because I want to keep you all neat and tidy for the men who want to play with you.'

Bret looked up and nodded to the men who were stood behind the two musketeers. They were grabbed and forced to stand. Bret stepped forward and punched Aramis in the stomach causing the man to double up. Bret looked at d'Artagnan before turning away. D'Artagnan struggled against the men holding him but could not escape their firm grip.

They were dragged back to their tent amid jeers and shouts from the hostile men in the camp. The guards pushed them down and chained their ankles before leaving the tent, one man remaining outside on guard.

Aramis pushed himself up to sit, leaning against the tree trunk, he had slightly turned himself away from d'Artagnan.

'Why didn't you tell me?'

'Because you would have offered yourself up to them…and I'm not going to be responsible for your death as well as that young man's.'

'I'm sorry.'

D'Artagnan reached out to Aramis and pulled him around by the shoulder so that he was leaning against the trunk of the tree.

'There's not much we can do about it…I'm sorry about Samuel, but there was nothing we could have done for him, you know that don't you?'

'Yes,' said d'Artagnan quietly, 'I shouldn't have reacted like that, I put us in more danger.'

'I don't think we could be in any more danger,' said Aramis, 'there are only two more men left for me to care for, if I can't keep them alive for the next two days…'

D'Artagnan realised what Aramis meant, Bret had made it quite clear he would happily only hand one of them back for half the ransom. The man was evil.

MMMM

Athos was kneeling a short distance away, packing a bag with bandages and Aramis' medical bag, which they had kept with them. Porthos glanced over at his friend who, although listening to Treville's briefing, did not need to be with the rest of the Musketeers. Athos would be waiting at the rear of the men to grab d'Artagnan and Aramis when they were released. Porthos would be putting himself at the front, his only goal was to take out Bret. Once he knew his friends were safely out of the way Porthos was determined the leader of the gang would be dealt with by his gun or sword.

The men were to spread out, as they had done at the previous meeting, it meant they would have a little ground to cover in order to reach the enemy, but the Musketeers were not going to let that little details stop them.

It was unfortunate that their days of searching had not uncovered the gangs camp. But without any source of reference they were searching blind. There were two small villages nearby, but neither knew anything about an encampment. Bret had clearly hidden his men well. It was also possible that they moved around the country, taking mercenary work where they could get it and reverting to robbing people on the roads when they needed to.

Treville, would lead a small group, including Porthos, to the centre of the clearing where the exchange was to take place. They had a bag containing a little money and weighted to appear full, they were under no illusion that the gang would be duped by the deception. They just had to hope it was long enough to get d'Artagnan and Aramis out of the way before the men began the inevitable battle. The chances of Bret not having reinforcements with him were slim.

The briefing finished Treville dispersed the men to their preparations. Porthos walked across to Athos who had finished packing what he would need and was loading up his horse's saddlebag.

'Got everythin' you're going to need?'

'I hope so, I just hope I do not have to deal with too many injuries. Barbotin is prepared as well so hopefully, between us we can deal with everything. Although my main concern will be d'Artagnan and Aramis initially.'

'Let Barbotin deal with anyone else, unless it's serious and 'e needs help…his stitching is better than yours anyway. Not as good as Aramis' though,' said Porthos with a sad look.

Athos patted his arm saying, 'we will get them back.'

Porthos nodded, but what state would their friends be in?

MMMM


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

They had been roughly grabbed in the early hours, both men were unshackled and pulled up to stand. D'Artagnan had grabbed Aramis' arm when the marksman had sagged slightly. Aramis knew he would not be much use at the exchange, he was leaning heavily on d'Artagnan for support.

Bret had enjoyed hitting him again when the last man had died the previous day. The old man had lingered, he had talked to Aramis right up to the point of his death. Aramis had felt quite sad when the man died, not because he knew he would get another beating or that d'Artagnan's life was in further danger because of it. He had grown quite fond of Marc, they had conversed several times about their lives.

When Bret had been informed of the death he had hauled Aramis out of the tent, thrown him to the ground and kicked him several times. Aramis had realised, as he lay gasping for breath, that the gangs leader had been holding back up to that point. The marksman did not think he had any broken ribs, but he was now in a far worse state than when they had first been captured.

They were marched, Aramis being dragged most of the way, towards several horses. Unable to prevent the whimpers of pain Aramis was manhandled onto one of the horses. D'Artagnan mounted up behind him. Manacles, with a chain between the cuffs, were attached to d'Artagnan's left wrist, and Aramis' right wrist.

'Don't want my prises getting away, now do I,' said Bret winking at them both as he took the horses reins.

As the horses moved forward together Aramis realised d'Artagnan was already holding him firmly in place, the young man was clearly worried that he may not remain conscious for long.

'I'm not going to pass out yet,' said Aramis quietly, he did not want Bret to hear.

'Good, we've lasted this long, just stay awake until we are safe.'

'I shall, then I intend to sleep for a week.'

'I'm going to eat, the finest meal I can afford.'

MMMM

Athos watched as Treville, Porthos and two other Musketeers reached the centre of the clearing. Bret and a small group approached them. He could make out Aramis and d'Artagnan sharing a horse, they were manacled together. Aramis was sporting several bruises to his face and looked haggard. D'Artagnan was not much better, he had bruising around his neck and seemed a little jumpy as the horses were brought to a stop. The leader of the gang said something to them and d'Artagnan dismounted before helping Aramis down. Aramis was leaning heavily on d'Artagnan.

Treville walked his horse forward towards Bret, the bag with the ransom money hanging from his saddle. Bret indicated for d'Artagnan and Aramis to go, d'Artagnan did not need telling twice he moved off, practically dragging the marksman with him. Athos moved forward, he wanted d'Artagnan and Aramis to see him and head in his direction.

The two captives stumbled their way across the clearing towards him as the money was handed over to Bret behind them. Athos watched for Treville's signal, Bret opened the bag and looked inside. As he looked back up, his face angry Treville yelled. The waiting Musketeers surged forward. Athos ran towards his friends grabbing Aramis from the other side and guiding the exhausted men to the relative safety of the woods.

As they moved, Athos spotted a man running at them. He twisted around pulling his gun at the same time. He fired, hitting the man square in the chest, the man stumbled forwards a few more paces before crashing to the ground. The man was still alive, although he would not be for long. He was trying to aim his gun in their direction. Athos took a few steps forward and kicked the attackers gun from his hands. As the man died a look of disappointment flashed across his face.

Athos returned to d'Artagnan and Aramis, grabbing the marksman again and helping his friends to get away from the battlefield.

MMMM

Porthos was sickened at the sight of his friends. Aramis looked like he was about to pass out, he had clearly been beaten several times. D'Artagnan had bruising around his neck which could only have been caused by someone trying to throttle him. It took a lot of the big musketeers will power not to react in haste and shoot Bret. He had to wait until his friends were out of the way, he watched as d'Artagnan helped the ailing marksman across the clearing towards Athos.

Treville had handed over the fake ransom, their ruse was about to be found out. Bret looked up at them with anger in his eyes, Treville yelled. The Musketeers rushed forward with speed, the men Bret had hidden on the other side of the clearing doing the same. Porthos made a lightning calculation and realised they were slightly outnumbered, which in Porthos' mind made them evenly matched.

MMMM

Treville pulled his gun and fired at the first man who attacked him, the man slumped sideways off his horse, a wound to his head taking him out of the fight permanently. The gun spent Treville flipped it over and used it to club a man who was trying to pull him from his horse, a swift kick saw him stumble backwards and be trampled by the first man's horse.

He drew his sword and dismounted in one fluid movement, two men attacked him, he easily engaged both. To his left Porthos was already off his horse and had made quick work of a weedy gang member before turning his attention to Bret who tried to fend of the furious musketeer from the top of his horse but found himself very quickly on the ground. Porthos paused long enough for the gang leader to regain his footing and draw his sword. Porthos was, on occasions, chivalrous, he wanted the fight to be even. At least to start with.

Returning his attention to the two men in front of him Treville feinted to the right before bringing his main gauche forwards and parrying the thrust that came from one of the men. The move left the man exposed, Treville sliced across his side eliciting a yelp from the man as he collapsed. The second man tried to take advantage and moved to strike Treville only to find the parrying dagger in his stomach.

Around him his men were easily overwhelming their enemy. Treville only needed to lend a hand a couple of times. He counted three men with injuries, none of which appeared to be serious. As the enemy's numbers dropped the Captain spotted a few retreating, he nodded towards some of his men who were nearby, they quickly remounted and followed.

He turned his attention back to Porthos and Bret. Bret appeared to have been trained in the art of swordsmanship. He was efficient with his weapon. But he was beginning to tire. Porthos, who wielded a slightly heavier sword, was able to bring it to bear with bruising strokes. Several times Bret had been forced back a couple of paces.

The man tried to take advantage when Porthos brought his arm to the side to swing at him. Porthos anticipated the attack and pulled Bret's sword away with his main gauche opening the man up for the fatal sword thrust that followed. Porthos pushed the sword deep into the man's guts. Bret coughed up blood almost immediately, making a choking sound as he did so. His sword and parrying dagger swung limply as his arms went slack. He stared at Porthos for a few seconds as the light faded from his eyes.

The last thing the man heard was Porthos' voice.

'That's for hurting us…'

MMMM

'They will be fine, let's worry about you two first,' said Athos as he watched d'Artagnan looking back towards the fight.

He had managed to manoeuvre them both to sit on the ground, leaning against the trunk of a large tree. Aramis was very unfocused and had allowed himself to be sat down, the man was close to passing out. D'Artagnan was a little edgy, full of energy after their escape. Both men had lost weight, they were filthy and had clearly suffered during their captivity.

'D'Artagnan?'

The young man finally looked at Athos, blinking to maintain his focus.

'There is water in the bag,' said Athos nodding towards the bag lying at the side of them.

D'Artagnan pulled out a water skin and after slaking his own thirst held the skin to Aramis lips. The marksman took a drink with a nod of thanks.

'Where are you hurt?'

'It's just bruising,' replied Aramis.

D'Artagnan nodded his agreement when Athos looked at him for confirmation of the marksman's assessment of his own injuries. Athos noticed both men were shivering, he reached over to the bag and pulled out a couple of blankets he handed one to d'Artagnan who looked at him blankly.

'Do I need to tell you what to do with a blanket?' asked Athos, 'you're shivering. When did either of you last eat?'

He watched as his friends exchanged a glance, d'Artagnan looked away his eyes watering as he did so. Athos looked back at Aramis.

'There was a young lad at the camp…' started Aramis, pausing whilst Athos helped him to lean forwards long enough to wrap the blanket around him, 'he smuggled us food. Bret found out and had him hanged…we were forced to watch.'

Athos shook his head, he hated to imagine what his friends had been through. The sounds of swords and gunshots gradually diminished until they could hear only one fight, that too ended. The silence that followed was deafening.

MMMM

Once the key to the manacles had been retrieved from Bret's body and the two former captives released, it had been an uncomfortable journey back to the Musketeers camp. Porthos had insisted that Aramis ride with him, the marksman was unconscious by the time they arrived. Between them Porthos and Athos had stripped Aramis and cleaned him up. It was only then that d'Artagnan saw the true extent of his injuries.

'I didn't know he had been beaten that badly…'

'He is a good actor, he hides injuries well, you know that,' said Athos as they watched Porthos cleaning their friend up.

'Bret had him working in the infirmary,' said d'Artagnan, 'whenever a man died, and they all died, Bret was beating him.'

'How did you come by the bruising on your neck?' asked Athos.

D'Artagnan did not want to respond but Athos was not going to let his remain quiet, 'after they hanged Samuel, his brother attacked us, he blamed us for his brother's death.'

Athos put his arm around d'Artagnan's shoulders and gave him a brief hug.

'Why didn't Bret attack you? Play you off against each other?' asked Porthos as he and Athos redressed the unconscious marksman.

D'Artagnan again did not want to answer but knew he would have to.

'Bret threatened to give me to some of the men, who wanted to…to…'

Athos nodded that he understood, Porthos shook his head in disgust.

MMMM

Porthos helped Aramis to sit up, the marksman was pale but appeared more alert than the previous couple of times he had regained consciousness.

'You gonna stay awake this time?'

Aramis managed a smile and nodded. Porthos gave him the water skin and watched to ensure the injured man drank enough. When Aramis had had his fill Porthos picked up a cup of broth he had been keeping warm by the fire. Aramis managed to take the cup, using both hands, and sip the warm liquid.

'This is good, you didn't make this did you?' asked Aramis managing a grin.

Porthos smiled, 'no, Pierre cooked it up.'

Aramis looked about, Porthos followed his gaze towards the sleeping form of d'Artagnan.

'He feels guilty that you were beaten so much. We've tried to tell 'im not to be, that you were protecting him from a far worse fate.'

'I know, I didn't want to tell him what Bret had threatened to do. I knew he would offer to do it.'

Porthos understood what Aramis meant, they would each be prepared to sacrifice themselves for another.

'He'll come around. You know Athos did the same thing.'

Aramis looked at him confused.

'His fever. Right after you were taken away he collapsed. I 'ad to carry him out of the wood.'

'Why didn't he say?'

'Because he didn't want you two to be worrying about him. He wanted you to concentrate on looking out for yourselves.'

Aramis sighed, 'we've been busy with the self-sacrifices and deceptions for the sake of others, haven't we?'

'It's what we do.'

The End

Authors note: Thanks for all the great reviews. I hope you enjoyed it.


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